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02/28/2005: "Parkdale Futon (The final block of an epic journey - I think)"
Tonight I called on a friend who lives on Seaforth Ave. in deepest Parkdale. I left his house at around 11:30PM and walked down to Seaforth and OHara, some 2 or 3 blocks north of Queen. In the middle of the intersection was a guy with long black and grey hair wearing sunglasses, some kind of plaid shirt and maybe one of those winter vests. He could have been a less -famous drunk version of Neil Young. He was standing next to a futon matress that was folded in half and wrapped in packing tape.
He said "are you a male or female" and I said "male". He started slurring something so I asked what he needed and he slurred a bit more so I said "you need some help" and he said "ya, I just live up there".
We carried his futon mattress up the street. He had to rest a lot, and change hands. He kept saying I was unbelievable, and he referred to me as "Buddy Mac" over and over. "Buddy Mac, I'd give you a beer at my place if I had one but I don't" and I said "It's OK i'm late, I have to go anyway". I asked how long he'd been carrying the mattress and he said "Buddy Mac, I don't want to tell you - you wouldn't believe it - when I started I needed sunglasses - that's why i'm wearing these sunglasses Buddy Mac". When we got to his house he said he'd have to bring it upstairs, which was subtle enough to imply that he didn't really want me going inside with him which was completely fine with me. I set the mattress down on his porch and he started waving his hands around his head saying thank you so I sorta waved and he sorta waved his hands closer at me so I stuck out my hand and shook his hand and he lingered too long a time shaking my hand as drunks do when they are thankful for small, easy gestures.
